Missing Details
by after88
Summary: When Hawke began leaning on Varric emotionally, he realised he had feelings for her. Well, shit.
1. Chapter 1

Hawke lay in her bed, eyes wide, breath quick, covering her mouth to stop her sobs becoming audible.

 _Shit. Another night terror... How many has that been now?_

With a stifled groan, she hauled herself up and leaned back against the grimy wall. Rubbing her bloodshot eyes, she peered around the dark room and noticed that the lavender candle had long since burned out, leaving the room enshrined in complete darkness, the sour smell of the house once again prevailing. Bethany's light snores rumbled under her, assuring her that she _was_ awake, some sort of a sense of relief in her muddled brain.

The nightmare seemed like a distant memory now, although the thought of it was etched onto her brain and had been for months now. She couldn't close her eyes for a moment without seeing Carver's petrified face, splattered in blood, defenceless as the ogre picked him up and-

She shook her head, trying to rid the image from her mind. She'd lived that moment once, she didn't need to relive it every time she managed to fall asleep.

 _Maybe my brain is trying to tell me something?_ She thought to herself, running a shaky hand through her hair. _Mother's right, isn't she? Carver's death_ _ **is**_ _my fault... I could have stopped him, maybe strategeized, pulled him back... anything..._

Hawke shook her head more viciously this time and shuddered.

 _Well, I think that's enough sleep for tonight._

The ladder of the makeshift bunk groaned as she climbed down, making it damn near impossible to be silent, but nobody seemed to wake. There was no point staying here, wallowing in pathetic self pity and perfectly justified self loathing. She found what she needed, fumbled her armour together, slipped on her boots, and shoved on her knives. Not that she would go anywhere without them. Quiet as a mouse (quieter, in fact, than the ones that also called Gamlen's hovel a home), she crept out of the house and made her way to the Hanged Man.

The sun was only just rising behind a cloudy sky, the city still shrouded in darkness. The distant call of the seagulls screeched overhead as she made her way through the streets, tiptoeing around the thugs and bandits she passed. She knew how to use the deep shadows to her advantage, praying not to meet any trouble. She just couldn't be arsed fighting right now, even if there _would_ be coin involved.

"I hope you've not come here for a drink." Corff moaned as Hawke approached, wiping down the filthy bar with an equally filthy rag.  
"I ehh.. I'm just waiting for breakfast service." Hawke shrugged, attempting to snap out of her sleepwalk.  
"We're closing for the night, Hawke. Everyone's getting chucked out in a few minutes." He looked up, seeing Hawke's worn and wary face, his own softening. "But eh... I guess I can trust you, what with stopping those bar fights and all. You'll have to hand over some coin for a drink though."

Hawke reluctantly handed over a few bits for a weak, warm tankard and looked for a place to sit. Weaving in and out through the thin crowds of drunks - most of which were sleeping at the tables - she managed to find a suitable table in the darkest available corner. With a heavy sigh of relief, she plonked herself and her drink down, getting somewhat comfy.

If only she could check in on Varric... but no. He wouldn't appreciate being woken at this time. Plus, they'd only seen each other a few hours ago. Not that she was counting or anything. He didn't need to hear about _her_ problems, especially when he had so many of his own. And between the Merchants Guild, the expedition planning, the odd jobs she dragged him through on almost a daily basis and the drinking they'd do afterwards, the poor man probably never had a spare moment to himself.

She drummed her fingers on the table, brows furrowing in thought. This would be a long wait and she knew it. She took a few sips just to quench her dry throat - thankful that she'd almost gotten used to the drink here - and sat, taking in the lulled atmosphere. It was almost pleasant at this time of day, dwindled crowds, hushed voices, occasional snores... Slowly, slowly, bit by bit her eyes began to open a little less with each blink and her head grew heavy, gently nodding a strange, slow rhythm.

Wait, had it always been this dark in here?

"Marian."

Why was someone saying her name? And where was she? She looked around to see an unfamiliar barren wasteland, but then she realised; she recognised that voice!

"C-Carver?" Hawke gasped, turning to see her brother in front of her, "You're okay!? I thought something happened to you!"

Happy didn't even begin to describe how she felt as she rushed towards him, arms extended and face beaming, but he outright ignored the invitation and instead stood stoic and apathetic, pushing her away. Over the years she'd grown to despise his clingy nature, even though he tried to hide it, but this was cause for celebration! What the heck was going on?

"Why, Marian?" He huffed, using his inch of extra height to look down his nose at her.  
"W-what?"  
"Why did you let me die?"

The memory returned, every last ounce of blood. She could never escape it. Carver's beaten, bloody face stared back at her. Deathly. Motionless.

Dead.

"It's _your_ fault." He spat, shoving her backwards almost onto the ground. " _You_ bullied me into fighting that ogre and you didn't even try to stop me! All those times you told me to prove myself, to do my part to protect our family. If you were a better sister then I'd still be here!"  
"I tried, Carver! I really did!" She cried, unsure if she even believed it herself.  
"You didn't, Marian. You're just a piece of shit." He sneered, walking closer to her, " _You_ wanted to be the hero of this family. You didn't want anyone to take _your_ place!"

Carver came closer still, pushing and pushing her, harder each time until she fell to the ground. She hauled herself to her feet and tried to reason with him, to bargain with him. Shadows appeared around her, a wall that stopped her from walking backwards. Franticly, she spun around, trying to make sense of the shadows, dark and cold. Somehow, she managed to make out Bethany's face, withdrawn and uncaring.

"Bethany, I-"  
"Just fuck off, idiot." Cried Bethany, shoving her to the ground. "Why couldn't _you_ have died instead of him?"  
"Please..." She begged, gasping for breath, "I didn't mean for him to die!"

More faces appeared from the darkness. Mother, Gamlen, what little friends she had back in Lothering. She tried to scream, but no-one bothered to listen. No-one cared. She fumbled to her hands and knees and tried to crawl away, but her mother grabbed her collar and yanked her back, hitting the hard ground with a thud.

"I wish you were never born." She screamed, kicking her back down when she tried to get back again.  
"You don't deserve the rags you sleep on." Gamlen sneered, stomping on her hand, a loud crunch underfoot.  
"Piece of shit." Spat Carver, pulling her hair.  
"Hawke." A soft, distant voice called.

They were right, she deserved this. She'd let Carver down. She'd let Malcolm down. Maker, she'd let her whole family down. The only thing that could make this worse would be seeing her dad. She couldn't bare to see him right now. He'd be so ashamed of who she'd become. A murderer, a wreck, a-

"Hawke?" The voice called, more urgent this time, snapping her awake.

The room span as she jumped up, banging her knee on the table. Her hands reached for her blades out of habit, stumbling over her own feet. Not so light-footed now, was she?

"Calm, calm. It's just me." The voice spoke.

She focused her wary eyes to see Varric in front of her and put away her blades. What a sight for sore eyes.

"Sorry about that." She mumbled.  
"No need to apologise, you need to sleep with your eyes open in this place." Varric noted the nearly empty tankard in front of Hawke, "It's a little early for you to be on the booze, is it not?"  
"Shut up, knobhead." She murmured, rubbing her eyes.  
"Couldn't sleep at home?"  
"Ehhh... You know what it's like. Gamlen... Mother... Bethany... I can't get any time for myself, I can't remember the last time I could."  
"Are you okay, Hawke?"

That question filled her with a strange sense of dread. How could she even begin to answer that? It wasn't important anyway. Instead, she just sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Come on, let's go to my room. I could probably whip you up some tea or something." She caught his eye, noticing a familiar look. "You look like you need it."

Reluctantly, she followed him upstairs. Her legs felt heavier than lead, every step almost unbearable as she gripped onto the wall for support. Where had she seen that look before?

It had been in an abandoned warehouse, after a raid. Hawke was looting the dead bandits, Anders healing Isabela and Varric was checking Bianca for damage.

"What's happened to you?" He mumbled calmly to himself, but the look in his eyes gave away how he truly felt. Worried? Concerned? Well, Hawke had never really been one for words.  
"Is there something wrong with Bianca?" Hawke asked, pocketing her findings.  
"She's just... a little jammed I think."

The group seemed to still, watching Varric mutter curses under his breath, fiddling with the intricate crossbow with his nimble fingers. Hawke shot a look to Isabela, who shrugged back. Shit, Bianca wasn't _really_ broken, was she?

Suddenly, there was a loud clunk and the crossbow retracted, Varric's shoulders falling in relief.

"Oh, thank fuck!" Varric wheezed, "If something happened to her I swear I'd learn necromancy and bring these buggers back to life, just to kill them again."

He checked her over a few more times, handling her as if she was the most important thing in his world. What was she thinking, of course she was!

"Onwards then?" Hawke asked, turning in the direction of the exit. It was time for a drink.  
"Lead the way, Hawke."

Varric closed the door behind Hawke and invited her to sit down.

"So... I don't mean to pry, but... What's going on, Hawke?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders and slunk into a spare chair, legs sprawled out.

"Would it kill you to get some human-sized furniture up here?" She moaned.  
"Don't change the subject. You've not been yourself this past while."  
"I'm just a bit overworked... you know, getting money for the expedition."  
"Is that it?" Varric asked slightly sceptically, dragging a chair towards Hawke, sitting down and leaning in to listen.  
"It's just stressful, you know, having to hide Bethany. I feel like I'll turn around for one minute and when I look she'll have been taken to the circle. The sooner the expedition gets going, the better."  
"She's safe for the time being, I've got people looking out for her."  
"Thanks." She sighed, leaning her head on her fist.

Silence prevailed as he watched her fingernails tap out a soft rhythm on the table. She sighed deeply, staring intently at nothing at all.

"I've known you a year now, Hawke, and I know when something's still eating at you."  
"Something's always eating me." She cocked an eyebrow and looked him in the eye. "I think it's Isabela's turn next."

A chuckle escaped his lips and a twinkle met his eye, but he pushed that down to look stern again.

"That's not what I mean, Hawke. If you don't want to tell me then I can't force it out of you. I just want to help."  
"You help enough already." She sighed, shuffling about, her bum already numb. Whoever thought sitting on stone was a good idea?

"All I do is go around shooting people for you. It's not exactly much."

She shrugged and pursed her lips. He did a lot more for her than that and he knew it.

"I don't know about you," He continued, "but I consider you one of my best friends and I'd hate to think of you trying to go through something alone."  
"You don't need to bother yourself. It's not important."  
"How many times have I moaned about Bartrand or the Merchant's Guild to you? What about the other night when I rambled on and on about my editor?"

Maybe saying something wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"I just..." Hawke began, staring intently into her lap, "I still don't think I've really gotten over Carver's death."  
"It's only been... what, two years?"  
Hawke nodded. "Pretty much. I wish he could be here..." Hawke murmured, finally meeting Varric's understanding gaze, "And I miss him. I miss seeing him. I miss talking to him. I miss making fun of him..." Hawke's lips turned up into what could almost be described as a smile, but her eyes conveyed how she truly felt. "Maker, I even miss arguing with him..."

She paused for a moment. Shit, figuring out how to put her feelings into words was hard. Varric was good at describing things, wasn't he? He _was_ a writer, after all. Thank goodness Hawke had no such writerly dreams.

"And I just... I hate the atmosphere at home right now. Everyone blames me for Carver's death and even my own mind is telling me conflicting things. I don't know who to believe."  
"You did everything you could to stop him?" It took Hawke a moment to realise it was a question.  
She shrugged. "I _thought_ I did, but now I'm not so sure."  
"Honestly Hawke, I don't think it's your fault. What were you supposed to do, reach up and grab him back from the ogre?"  
"I could have done something..."  
"'Could have's are deadly, Hawke. They'll eat you up until there's nothing left of you. You did all you could and no-one could ask for any more than that."

She sat silently, looking over at the empty tankard at the other end of the table, left from last night, eyes glazed over. She shifted again in her seat, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. A babyish position, yes, but less babyish than crying.

"So you've been keeping this all to yourself?" He prodded.  
"Who could I speak to?" Hawke sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides. "Who could I actually tell? Who would _actually_ listen? I don't want to burden Mother... or Bethany... or anyone else with all this drivel. Shit, I shouldn't even be telling you!" She swallowed down a hot lump, fire behind her eyes. "How could I speak to Mother anyway when she thinks it's my fault? Bethany doesn't get involved and I wouldn't want to get her involved. She has enough to worry about. And even Gamlen turns away when we talk about Carver. I don't think he notices, but he would have loved a nephew, I can see it in his face."  
"What about Rivaini? Daisy? Even Blondie?"  
"They have their own problems, Varric."

Varric nodded slowly in agreement. It was true that she didn't really have anyone to confide in. He reached his hand out to Hawke's shoulder, to show sympathy, but she shrugged it off, trying to ignore her suddenly frantic heartrate.

"Sorry, Varric." She murmured, lowering her head, rubbing her forehead and blinking rapidly, "I'm just not... I haven't had much non-violent human contact in a while."  
Varric shook his head, "To be honest, I can't remember the last person I actually wanted non-violent contact with." He shifted his eyes and mumbled, "Apart from Bianca, I guess."  
"You and that goddamn crossbow." She chuckled weakly, "Get a room, you two!"

Varric chuckled too, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't exactly what he meant. No, she didn't need to know.

"So I guess now you know just how fucked up I am... or at least why I'm so fucked up."  
"I think all you need to do right now is give yourself time and space to grieve." He spoke, softly.  
"That's not exactly possible when we're stepping on each other's toes at Gamlen's."  
"You're free to visit me up here whenever it gets a bit much. It's nice having company that isn't business related. My palatial suite is your palatial suite, and all that."  
"So I can visit _any_ time?" She smirked weakly, "I'm sure I'm going to take you up on that offer."  
"Sure. And If there's ever anything I can do for you then _please_ let me know."

She nodded lightly and fell silent for a while, taking in the quiet surroundings and the comfortable company. Maker, what did she do to deserve someone like him?

"Don't let me keep you up, it must be really late now."  
"It's early, Hawke."  
"Early? What time is it?"  
"It's just past 9 now."

Hawke's brow furrowed, eyes widening, looking down at the ground. She tapped her fingers lightly, trying to count how many hours of sleep she had. Four? Five? Maybe even six? That was definitely the best night's sleep in a while.

"So..." Hawke spoke, clearing her voice, "what's the plan for today then?"  
"It's up to you. I've got some more information that's come through if you want to follow any of the leads."

Varric tossed a pile of notes over and Hawke leafed though. Varric's handwriting was definitely nice to look at. For one thing, it was actually the other hand, Hawke's was only legible to her. Who would need to read anything she wrote anyway? It was a sort of a protection kind of thing. What was she doing again? Oh yeah.

Fuck, she was exhausted.

"We'll see what the other's think." Hawke sighed, standing up and stretching, "All I know is that I need something to get my mind off all this..." She gestured to her head, "this shit."

Varric nodded, grabbed his coat and opened the door. His ear was immediately met by a few familiar voices having a heated discussion.

"Speaking of the others, I'm sure I can hear the Elf and Blondie at each other's throats already."  
Hawke stood, listening for a moment. "Oh yeah... I think it's about the chantry this time!"  
"Come on," he coaxed, "breakfast is on me today."

It was time for her least favourite part of the day. She followed him down the stairs, breathing in deeply, forcing her mouth upwards and her eyes relaxing. It was time to put her mask back on, whether she liked it or not.

"How did I know you'd be here?" Bethany started the moment she came into view.  
"And a good morning to you, too." Hawke proclaimed with no missing notes of sarcasm. "Don't worry, I was only here to escape your snoring."  
Bethany flushed bright red and lowered her head, her eyes shifting, "I-I don't snore!"  
"Sure, sis. And I'm a templar here to arrest you."

Bethany rolled her eyes and shook her head, her eyes darting to Anders, who was unable to pry his eyes from Hawke.

"That's not even funny!" Bethany cried. "And anyway, I really don't snore!"

She took a spare chair at the other head of their usual table, which was noticeably less busy than it was during Wicked Grace last night. Of course, Aveline was on duty, Merrill was likely frolicking through the gardens in Hightown and Isabela was never known to emerge from her room until noon.

"Blood sausage sandwich, Hawke?" Varric asked, sitting beside her and waving over the bar staff.  
"You know me _too_ well." Hawke smirked, winking.  
"Oh, get a room you two!" Sneered Bethany.  
"Don't worry, sunshine, I have one."  
"Varric!" Hawke howled, punching him jokingly on the arm. That really wasn't the sort of thought she needed right now.  
Varric laughed and shook his head, leaning forward and looking over at Hawke longingly. "You all know there's only one woman for me."

Hawke's heart pounded under his gaze. It was a joke, of course it was! It had to be, surely, but he left the punchline a split second too long. But then he sat back, raised an eyebrow and proudly tapped Bianca, who was resting under the table, protected between his legs.

"How did I ever see that coming?" groaned Fenris.

Hawke forced a laugh out of habit and shook her head, using the bad joke to laugh off the unease she felt. That twisted knot in her stomach wouldn't go away, no matter how much she ate. If anything, it made matters worse. Maybe a pick-me-up from the bar could help her through the day. To be honest, after the night she'd had she _did_ kind of deserve it.

"Actually, Varric, could I have a tankard too if there's one going?"  
"Sure." He shrugged.

The glare from Bethany was possibly one of the worst yet, but it wasn't worth acknowledging.

The tankard arrived within minutes and Hawke used it an an excuse not to engage in the current conversation. The lack of sleep was already catching up with her and she could barely concentrate enough to string a sentence together in her head, let alone out loud. At least the tankard was helping, a little. Bethany's glare persisted though.

"Sis, you really shouldn't be drinking this early!" She eventually spoke.  
"You're not the one that had to deal with your snoring!" She retorted, surprised she was making sense. "And don't get me started on what you were saying in your sleep-"  
"T-That's enough, Marian!" Bethany cried, eyes widening and darting towards Anders.

 _I knew it!_ She smirked to herself.

"Fine, fine..." Bethany yielded, "Do what you want..."

"What's the plan for today then?" Fenris asked Hawke, who - in turn - looked over at Varric, raising her eyebrows. Mother always taught her not to speak with her mouth full.  
"Well, we have a few leads on information I've been collecting." He said, throwing a bunch of notes into the middle of the table.

Everyone fumbled through the papers, skim reading through.

"Anyone have a preference?" He asked.  
"The wounded coast sounds good to me." Anders said, "Bit of fresh air wouldn't go amiss right now."  
"Of all the places..." Varric grumbled, "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the wounded coast?"  
"Only twenty times that I can think of." Hawke retorted between bites.

The last of the sandwich was crammed into Hawke's mouth and the rest of her tankard was downed before Varric could complain any more.

"Everyone ready to go?" She asked, .cracking her neck to get rid of some of the tension from sleeping with her head on a table.

The group grumbled in agreement and rose from the table, readying for a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think that's us done here" Varric said triumphantly, placing Bianca back in her holder, "How much did you get, Hawke?"  
"A shit tonne of bits, twenty-something silvers and one soverign... not too shabby."  
"I'll be expecting a drink on you tonight then."  
"Ha ha ha." Hawke sighed sarcastically, "You'd have to earn the coin through beating me at Wicked Grace."  
"You say that as if it would be difficult!"  
"D'ya want a knife through ya?" Hawke asked, immitating the broad Starkhaven accent of the fish merchant in Hightown, "'Cuz that's wit you're gonna be gettin'!"  
Varric chuckled and shook his head at the immitation.  
"If you two are finished bickering like an old married couple, then I'd like to go home now." Bethany sighed.  
"We're not finished, actually." Hawke said, folding her arms, "We're just about to have a heated debate about the merits of nug farming."

Bethany comically rolled her eyes and began walking in the direction of Kirkwall. Hawke shrugged her shoulders and began following behind.  
"You okay over there, Blondie?" Varric called behind them.  
"Yeah... fine.." Anders sighed back, not walking, but instead looking out to the sea.  
Varric leaned into Hawke.  
"Shall I or will you?" He mumbled, pointing between himself and Hawke.  
"I'll speak to him. You go see if you can cheer up sis."  
"I'm right ahead of you."

Hawke wandered over to Anders, hands clasped behind her back.  
"Hey there, handsome! What'cha doin'?"  
"Just.. thinking."  
"Whoa, don't think _too_ hard! You might blow something up."  
He chuckled lightly and looked at Hawke, his eyes sparkling more than the waters of Kirkwall's coast ever could.  
"Oh, Hawke... you never fail to make me smile."  
"Glad I'm good for something, other than eating, sleeping and sticking knives into people."  
"Don't undersell yourself! You're... well..." He looked at Hawke before sighing and looking back out to the sea, "You're the best friend some of us have."  
"You must not have many friends then!"

She had intended to make him laugh, but he stood silently, his eyes mirroring the dark clouds beginning to pass overhead.  
 _Shit. I've said something wrong again, haven't I?_  
"Let's get back." He sighed, turning around and walking back to meet up with the others  
"Oh, okay."

"Where's everyone off to now then?" Hawke asked, rejoining the rest of the group.  
"Paperwork. Bartrand has me organizing some of the supplies for the deep roads so I'll be writing up trade agreements. It'll be thrilling, I'm sure."  
"I'm going home to read that spellbook you got me, Varric. I'm excited to learn more about healing!"  
"Fenris, what about you?"  
"I'm going to bake a chocolate cake." He sighed, with a tone as flat and cutting as his sword.  
"Good thing Daisy isn't here," Varric snorted, "She would have believed you and wanted to help."  
"What about you, Anders?" Hawke asked, looking back.  
"What?" He asked, looking up  
"What are you off to do? Back to the clinic as usual?"  
He nodded, staying quiet.  
"And you, Hawke?" Varric asked, glancing over.  
"I don't know yet. I'll see." _  
_"Whataver you do, take it easy. I think you've done enough for today."  
Hawke nodded, stopping herself from a sly smile appearing on her lips.  
 _I already know what I'll be doing, s_ he thought to herself, feeling for the letter in her back pocket, _Another job of course!_

"Another demon!" Aveline cried.  
"I've got it!" Hawke growled, running towards it, blades ready.  
She lunged forward and sliced through the demon's back.  
 _It's your fault.  
_ It tried to swipe at her, but she dodged out of the way and slashed through it as she did so, dark liquid oozing out of its wounds. _  
You can't do anything right,  
_ The knife tore through the demon as it shreiked and fell to the ground.  
 _You're a failure, Hawke._

"Is that them all?" Hawke called out.  
"No..."  
"No?"  
Hawke looked around, but froze when she saw it.  
 _Maker's dimpled butt cheeks.  
It has to be a fucking ogre, doesn't it?  
_She tried to run, but her legs froze in place. She couldn't move. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, hr head a mess of thoughts. She could barely hear herself think... other than the snide remarks.  
 _You useless piece of shit._  
The ogre looked her up and down and scraped its foot along the ground, ready to charge. She could feel bile rising in her stomach. She couldn't grip her daggers, her hands felt as if someone had cast an ice spell.  
"Hawke, move!" Aveline cried.  
But Hawke just shook her head. Aveline banged on her sheild and waved her sword. "FACE ME!" She screamed at the ogre, "I STAND FOR ALL OF US!"  
The ogre looked over at Aveline and charged. Hawke took a deep breath and willed her legs to move again, one after the other and grasped the blades in her hand.  
 _I'm too sober for this shit._  
Aveline ran out of the way, at the last minute, avoiding the ogre's rampage.  
 _This is no time to be weak,_ she told herself, running behind the monster, slashing at its legs, _For Carver, if no-one else_.  
She could smell the horribly familiar, pungent aroma as she dodged it's careless arm swings, trying to breathe through her mouth. In that moment she could have been back in Fereldan. She half expected to see Carver's dead body on the ground behind them. His lifeless eyes flashing through her mind. She jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding another swipe, her heart beating through her chest.

The ogre got ready to charge again, scraping its foot along the ground. She jumped onto its back and stuck her blades in. The ogre let out a roar and charged, flinging her off. Before she knew what was happening, she landed on her back, teh momentum throwing her head back, smashing it on the hard ground.  
"AH!" She cried, rubbing her head, "Fucking shitty piece of... shit." She mumbled to herself, sitting up and raising to her feet.  
She looked up to see one of her blades still stuck in the ogre's back as it charged towards Merrill, who gave chase and hid behind a tree. She sarched for her spare blade in her backpack, wiped the sweat from her forehead and ran around behind the beast, slashing at its legs. Her chest felt tight under her armour, her head throbbing, she couldn't control her hands as she wanted to.  
 _No, no, no!_ She cried aloud in her mind, _I can't breathe!  
_ She jogged backwards, out of the way of its next charge, holding a hand to her chest.  
 _Maker, help me! I can't breathe!_

She fumbled in her backpack for something... anything that might help. Water? It did nothing. A stamina drought? It was worse than nothing. All it did was just increase her heartbeat and made her mind rush around even more quickly.  
"You okay there?" Isabela called over.  
"Never better!" She sighed, stretching her arms out trying to look as if she was ready to fight.  
With one last swipe from Aveline and a fire ball from Merril, the creature fell to the ground, a horriffic cry erupting. The group checked themselves for injuries and gathered their belongings. Hawke, however, had a different idea. She storned over to the monster, took back her blade and stomped it in the face.  
 _His death was your fault, Hawke.  
_ She rammed her foot into its face, again and again, feeling the bones crushing underfoot. The blood oozed out, its eyes sunk in. The foul smell only grew worse. _  
It would have been better if_ _ **you**_ _had died instead._  
"Hawke?... Hawke! I think it's dead!" Merrill cried.  
She stopped stomping, took a deep breath, scraped her foot across the ground to get rid of the disgusting blood and readjusted her hair back into it's ponytail.  
"Just wanted to make sure." She sighed, "Let's see what resources we can get from up here. Keep an eye out for ironbark. That's what we came here for."  
Aveline shot her a pained look, but soon shook her head and began scouting the area. Hawke pretended she didn't see that.  
"Want a drink?" Isabela asked, sliding up to her, "That was rough."  
"You don't know the half of it." She sighed, taking the hip flask from Isabela and drinking rapidly, "Fucking... ogres..."

"Aah, if it isn't my _favourite_ dwarf!" Hawke sighed, collapsing on the nearest chair she could find.  
"I'm going to regret my words yestersay, amn't I?" Varric moaned, loking up over piles of parchment.  
"It was a little silly of you to offer your place to me, any day, any time. Don't worry though, I intend to make you regret that decision." She streched out like a cat ready to sleep, "Do you have anything to eat up here?"  
"I have an apple here if you want it."  
Varric threw it over but Hawke didn't catch it. Instead, she shot him a look, letting it hit the floor and roll into the corner of the room.  
"Thought not." He chuckled, scribbling down something.  
"Still doing the trade agreement?"  
"No, just doing some writing. My publisher is getting annoyed that I haven't turned out any new pages in a while and well... she's quite the force to be recconed with."

Hawke looked around for something to do.  
 _What's this?_ She thought to herself, picking up a book and looking at the cover, _...Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras? Is this smut!?  
_ She giggled to herself, opened it up and began reading.

The light scratching of Varric's quill was soothing. Between turning each page, she took the opportunity to look over at him, watching his face change expression, his head shaking, hands moving as his characters' would. She didn't realise she had a smile on her face until she noticed her face hurt from doing so.

"What was up with Blondie earlier?"  
"I... don't know, actually. He just looked a bit sad and told me I was his friend."  
"His friend? I could have sworn he wanted to be more than _that._ "  
She laughed a little before seeing the serious look on Varric's face.  
"Wait, you're being serious!?"  
"I'm pretty darn sure of it."  
 _I_ _ **did**_ _say something wrong earlier then... didn't I?_  
"I doubt he would be interested in me... I mean, why would anyone be?"  
"I think you'd be surprised."  
"You're not going soft on me too?" She joked, wafting the book in front of him.  
"Don't worry, Hawke. That's the _last_ thing on my mind right now."  
"I'm so flattered!"

Hawke dug her nose back into the book.  
"Huh?" She cried, reading the first twist, "Ooh, I see!"  
 _This is really serious for a smutty book..._ She thought to herself, _I kinda like it!_

"So how have you been feeling today, Hawke?" Varric asked, looking over once more. _  
_"Never better. Can you not tell?"  
"You don't exactly seem it."  
"What gave me away? Was it the bags under my eyes? The scuffs on my boots? Oh, I know! I broke a nail earlier, that must have been it!"  
He rolled his eyes, "Please enlighten me, what _did_ you do when you got back then?"  
She shrugged her shoulders, "Hung around, went to the market and all that... picked up a new backpack, my old one was falling apart."  
"Is that all?" He asked, eyebrows raised, leaning in and putting his quill down.  
 _Aah, shit.  
_ "I keep forgetting you have spies... I should know better than to try to fool you."  
"You need to calm down and stop working so much, it's not good for you!"  
"It gets my mind off things _and_ gets me coin!"  
"You're going to burn out sooner or later. When was the last time you had a day off?"  
She shrugged and slumped further into her chair, using the book to obscure Varric's stern glare.  
"What is this, an interrigation?"  
"One of these days you'll be unable to cope anymore and I worry it's going to be in the middle of battle."  
"Naah, I'll be fine. I'll take a stamina potion."  
"That won't work. There isn't a potion for _mental_ stamina!"  
"I'll be fiiiiine!" She sang, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair, "I'm having time off now, amn't I? Look at you! You're always either on a job with me, doing paperwork, writing or playing Wicked Grace."  
"You've got me there." He sighed, pushing his chair back, "I don't consider writing work though... _or_ Wicked Grace."  
"So is that you done for the night?"  
"I guess."  
"Let's get some drinks in here then. I owe you for today, anyway."  
"I have a meeting tomorrow I need to be fresh-faced for."  
"You? Fresh faced? That'll be the day." She laughed, eyes gleaming.  
"Fine, fine." He sighed, eyebrows raised and a smirk appearing on his lips, "Edwina! Two tankards please!"  
"Coming right up!" A voice called from downstairs.  
"I see you've spied a book of mine."  
"What's this?" Hawke cried, feigning ignorance, "A book? How did this fowl beast appear in my hand? Begone!"  
She laughed a litle too much at her own joke and placed it down on the table.  
"It's actually... quite good so far."  
"Feel free to keep reading. It's just been published so I'm waiting for appraisals to come in. I'd prefer some honest opinions though."  
"Sure."  
"Never thought I'd see that day when you'd pick up a book out of choice."  
"Hey! I _have_ picked up a book before! Just to move it out of the way to get something else. Anyway, I'm just waiting for the dirty scenes!"  
"Dirty scenes?"  
"Well, it _is_ called Hard in Hightown."  
Varric chuckled and shook his head, "Of course _you_ would assume that."  
"You mean it's not?"  
"Nope."  
"Great. Now I'm emotionally invested in a book that doesn't have smut in it!" She sighed sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "Thanks for that!"  
"You're welcome."

The barmaid entered and placed two foaming tankards on the table.  
"Anything else?" She asked.  
"A blood sausage sandwich wouldn't go amiss."  
"How _did_ I know you were going to say that?" Varric mused aloud.  
" I'll see what I can do."

Varric watched as Hawke lifted the tankard to her lips and took a long drink. Her eyes closed softly.  
"Aaaaah..." She sighed, eyes gleaming in her usual cheeky way, "It never tastes better than after a long day of work."

He watched her as she streched her arms and legs over the armrests of the chair and left her arms dangling where they fell.  
 _That can't be comfortable,_ He thought to himself.  
"Are you wanting to stay here tonight?"  
"I _should_ really go back home. If I spend too much time around 'potential suitors' then my mother will surely have a strongly worded letter sent to you."  
"Me? A potential suitor?"  
"Mother's standards aren't exactly the same as mine... No offence."  
"I'll take that as 'I'd rather not ruin this wonderful friendship we have' instead of the 'You're not good enough for me' that it sounded like."  
"More like... you're not quite my type."  
"Oh?" Varric asked, his pulse quickening, but his cocky tone remaining, "And what _would_ your type be? If that Jethann guy was anything to go by then I'd guess... short, lanky elven guys? The broody elf should be right up your street then. Two out of three isn't bad."  
Hawke shook her head.  
"Forget I said anything." She mumbled, picking the book back up and hiding her face, which was quickly turning a bright red.  
"You're going to say that but then just leave it there?"  
"Just, drop it! _Please._ "  
"Fine... fine..."

 _Shit, Hawke! Why did you say **that**? I mean, Maker's balls, throw him off the scent but don't throw him off a bridge!_

As intriguing as the book was, Hawke couldn't focus. Her own words plagued her mind.  
 _Would it have really been so difficult to just... I don't know... run screaming from the room instead. You would have embarassed yourself less.  
_ She could feel her face getting hotter yet.  
 _Just... don't let him see your face like this._

She reached her arm back out for the drink, using the book to sheild her face.

"You got any plans for tomorrow?"  
"I do actually, for once."  
"Please tell me it involves relaxing in some way."  
"Don't worry, it does! You know I find stabbing people _most_ theraputic."  
"And what is this relaxing plan then?"  
"Fighting those Hightown bandits of course!"  
"The group I've been getting information on? The group I suggested that we wait until we _have_ some information on, other than where they're based?"  
"Precicely."  
"I should just... stop giving you advice while I'm ahead, shouldn't I?"  
"Pretty much!"  
He rolled his eyes, "You better make sure you've got a hell of a team with you."  
"I plan on bringing everyone.. except Bethany of course, that's a given."

She put the book down and quickly hid her face behind her tankard after meeting Varric's gaze.

"I should be heading home soon. Mother will worry. Well, she'll worry anyway, but I don't want to give her more reason to."  
"Fair enough. I'll be here, ready to go when you need me tomorrow."

She downed what little was left of her tankard and waltzed out of the room. She saw Edwina half way down the stairs.  
"Oh, Hawke! I have your sandwich here if you're still wanting it."  
"I'll take it with me. Thanks!" She said, picking it off the plate.  
She immediately regreted picking up a hot sandwich with a molten piece of food falling out of the middle. Carefully, she walked out of the door, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

 _If I see a bandit and I have to put down my sandwich then I swear... they'll feel my wrath!_ She thought to herself, an angry look on her face.

Maybe it was that very same look that stopped the bandits from coming near her that night. _  
_


	3. Chapter 3

"So where is it we're going then, Varric?" Merrill sang, purposefully plodding along the street.  
"You mean you agreed to come without knowing what you'd be doing?" Fenris sighed, putting his palm to his face.  
Merrill shrugged, "Well, why wouldn't I?"  
Varric shook his head, "Oh, Daisy... What will we do with you?"  
"Do with me? What do you mean?"  
He shook his head again and rubbed his temples, "It's just another expression."  
Isabela's head suddenly appeared between the two.  
" _I_ have things I'd do with you, Merrill." She quipped.  
"Ooh, now this _is_ something dirty, isn't it?" Merrill chirped.  
"And how _did_ you guess that?" Anders sighed, a smirk on his face.  
"Half of what comes out of her mouth is dirty, I just took a lucky guess."

Hawke trailed behind the group, trying to listen, to grasp at the words flying back and forth, but she just couldn't keep up. Her eyes felt heavy. She strained to keep them open. They had been open for so long now.  
 _All I want is one night without a night terror. Just_ _ **one**_ _night!_ She thought to herself, shielding her tired eyes from the harsh mid-day sunlight, _What if I'm never able to sleep again without having one?_

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, but immediately regretted it. The dull pain in her head suddenly turned sharp, as if someone stuck a dagger in her temples.  
 _No-one wants you here. You're just a hindrance that takes all money that_ _ **they've**_ _earned._  
She tried to blank out the familiar thoughts, but they still niggled away at her, bit by bit. She tried to steady her breathing, but she couldn't help but notice how tight her chest felt. Her heart pounded, she could hear it so clearly in her ears, her legs felt weak, numb, heavy. A cold sweat trickled down her back.  
 _No. This is_ _ **not**_ _happening again._  
She clenched her fist, feebly digging her nails into her palms, but her hands felt too weak to have any affect.  
 _Was it really too much to hope that yesterday's blind panic was a one off?_

She could hear heavy footsteps approaching, a shadow appeared in front of her.  
"You okay there?" Varric murmured, tagging along with her, matching her slow pace.  
She nodded slowly but kept walking, eyes fixated on the ground in front of her.  
 _Just don't think about it._  
"Hawke?"  
 _Just ignore this and it'll all go away.  
_ She tried to carry on, but it was all getting too much. She slowed down and held her hand to her chest, forcing deep breaths, her head spinning. _  
_"I really don't think you should be coming with us..." He sighed, looked her up and down "What's going on?"  
"I... I'm fine. Just give me a... moment."  
"Maker's dimpled butt cheeks, Hawke! You're **not** fine!" He cried, "You can't come with us like this."  
She tried to force her legs to work, taking feeble steps towards the others who were now out of view, past a corner.  
"O-okay... I lied... I think I'm... I'm going to have a blind panic." She whimpered, forcing herself to breathe, "I-I can't do this. I need to... sit down... somewhere."

"Keep up, slowpokes!" Isabela's voice cried out, "Stop gossiping when I'm not there to hear it!"  
"You go on with them." She wheezed, stopping dead in her tracks, "No point in... stopping now."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Just tell them I'm gonna be sick or something... I mean, I probably am but... yeah..."  
"I'll come find you when I can." Varric said nodding, "You take care of yourself. My suite is there if you need it."

Hawke nodded, turned around and began to look for somewhere she could curl up into a ball and forget about the world. People's heads seemed to turn, to look at her as she passed.  
 _They're watching you._  
Their eyes followed her. Their stares burned into her back.  
 _They can see through your weak front._  
She needed somewhere away from the prying eyes. Somewhere she could be alone.  
 _They know how weak you are._  
She didn't know where to go, but getting out of Hightown seemed like a good start. The hustle and bustle of it all just made her feel worse. Tentatively, she made her way down the many stairs, holding onto the handrail for what felt like dear life.

Finally, her foot reached the ground after the last step. She was back in Lowtown. She could feel the lack of concern for others that people had here. No-one would stare at you, they just walk past, going about their _own_ business.  
No prying eyes.  
No harsh stares.  
She stood for a moment, taking in the calmer atmosphere, considering her options.  
 _Where to now then?  
_ Out of habit, she began to walk in the direction of the Hanged Man, but once she reached the door, she couldn't make herself go inside. The thought of going to the Hanged Man right now, in the state she was in, she couldn't bare. Seeing people she knew, having to make conversation, pretending she was fine all filled her with dread... although not quite as much as the thought of going to Gamlen's. Mother and Bethany should never see her like this.  
 _There must be somewhere I can go,_ she thought to herself, half aware that she was wandering aimlessly in circles.

Before she knew it, she found herself at the docks. The lulling waves calmed her and began to ease her thoughts as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, until someone barged past, almost knocking her over.  
"Watch it!" They cried.  
She quickly checked her pocket for her coinpurse.  
 _Thank fuck._ She thought to herself as she felt the rattle of coins, _Just an inconsiderate git, not a thief._  
She tried to calm her nerves but the sounds around her began to make her stomach churn once more.  
 _There's far too many people here. I need peace... and quiet._  
She shakily strode to the broken, unused part of the docks, her hands quivering, her head feeling light. Carefully, Hawke made her way to the edge, where she knew that only seagulls and the occasional stray cat would look for company.  
 _Perfect._

She slumped down at the edge of the dock, hiding behind a broken box, head in hands. She could feel the repressed emotions bubbling up. The worry, the anger, the sadness.  
 _Don't cry, Hawke. You're not a baby. You're a woman. Don't cry.  
_ It was useless. She scrunched her stinging eyes closed and bit her lip.  
 _Don't cry. Do anything but cry.  
_ She lowered her head and put her hands at the back of her neck, digging her nails into the flesh. Scratching. Pinching. Hitting. Anything to stop the tears falling.  
 _Don't be so fucking weak._

There was no use in trying to stop herself as tears flowed silently. All she could do was wait for them to stop. They felt hot as they rolled down her face, as if they burned into her flesh, falling onto the cracks in the pier and to the salty murk below. Her shoulders shook, her chest wheezing as the quiet sobs emerged. Even with no-one around, Hawke just couldn't bring herself to make a noise when she cried. At least the sea was once again a place of comfort, instead of a prison as it was on the way to Kirkwall. It now served as a reminder of home, no longer just a reminder of what she had lost, but also the home she had made for herself here. She dangled her legs of the edge, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. The darkness and anger of the sea seemed to reflect her own. Endless and unrelenting.  
 _How tempting it is..._ she thought to herself, _To just let myself slip through the cracks and into the sea..._

Above her, the seagulls seemed to mock her in their jovial cries, snapping her from her morbid thoughts, as if they knew she was too much of a coward to ever go through with it. Flying freely in the warm early summer breeze, their wings slicing through the wind in a way Hawke could only wish. She watched the gentle tide of the sea, the waves lapping up towards the dock, splashing up through holes in the pier.  
 _At least my tears are insignificant to the sea.  
_ She lay down onto her back, tears still streaming and stared at the blue sky above.

"That was _hardly_ a fight." Isabela sneered, putting her daggers away, "That information you had was shit, Varric. Hanged Man, anyone?"  
"I thought you'd never ask." Fenris sighed, a sly grin on his lips as he sheathed his war hammer.  
"Up for a game of Wicked Grace later?"  
"But it's not even Friday!" Merrill cried.  
"I hate to break it to you, but Wicked Grace _can_ be played more than once a week! Everyone in?"  
They all nodded between themselves. All except Varric.  
"Varric, you up for it?"  
"Huh?"  
"Wicked Grace later?"  
"Sure, I eh... I'm going to go see how Hawke is doing." He sighed, scraping something squishy off the bottom of his shoe, "Just to make sure she isn't puking up her guts or something."  
"Yeah. I think that's a good idea. Wish her well for me, will ya?" Isabela said, rummaging through the few dead bodies for bloody coin.  
Varric briskly walked away and once around a corner, he sprinted off.

He walked past the spot in which he had last seen Hawke, just in case, but she wasn't there.  
 _No need to worry, she probably went to the Hanged Man._ Varric told himself, walking down the many Hightown steps.

He pushed through the door of the Hanged Man and looked around the bar floor, half expecting to see her at the bar, but of course she wasn't there.  
"You seen Hawke about?" He asked Coriff, who only shook his head, too swamped with drink orders to answer.

He climbed upstairs and knocked on his door.  
"Hawke, it's me. You okay in there?"  
No reply.  
He opened the door to find the room empty, exactly as he had left it.  
"Okay. No need to worry. She's probably at Gamlen's then."

He knocked on Gamlen's grubby door and Bethany quickly answered.  
"Is Hawke in?"  
"I thought she was with you. You were doing a job, weren't you?"  
"She wasn't feeling well so she quit early."  
"That's... not like her."  
"Let her know I'm looking for her if you see her. Also some of the others are going to be playing Wicked Grace later. You're free to join."  
"Thanks, I might. I'll send sis to you if I see her."  
"Much appreciated, Sunshine."

 _Shit. Right, okay. Daisy's house, surely?_

"Sorry, Varric..." She sighed,"...but I've not seen her since she ran off. I'll keep an eye out for her though! Maybe I'll make her a remedy of mine for an upset stomach."  
"Thanks, Daisy. I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

 _Where the fuck is she?_ He thought, looking up at the changing sky, the tips of the clouds turning a bright amber.

All he wanted was to see her again, to know she was okay, that nothing had happened.  
 _Maybe a calm look on her face too wouldn't go amiss._ He thought, remembering the last time he had seen her looking anything close to content.

She had stood at the docks, watching the waves underfoot. No, she didn't look calm, she looked more deadpan, serious. Her eyes almost looked sad, as if she wanted to be swallowed by the sea herself, as if she would walk out at any moment, allowing herself to drop down into the abyss.

 _The docks! That must be where she is!_ He thought to himself, sprinting to the docks, _**Please**_ _don't do anything stupid, Hawke._

"You know..." She had suddenly spoken to him, "There's this... feeling I get from the sea."  
Varric jumped a little. He hadn't realised she knew he was watching her.  
"What kind of feeling?" Varric asked.  
"I really don't know if I can describe it."  
"Why not try?"  
She took a deep breath, "Calm... and sad... and remembering old memories."  
"That sounds like melancholy to me."  
"Well that sounds like a made up word to _me_."  
"Well then, you should read more!"

She smiled at him, before gazing back out to the sea, her smile slowly fading. She took a deep breath, looked down at the cracks between her feet and closed her eyes. Something about her stance was so unsettling, as if she would jump in a moment if given the opportunity. No hesitation. He felt relieved when she opened her eyes again and turned back around.  
"Let's head off." She's said suddenly, turning her back to the sea.

Varric reached the docks, just as most of the ships were docking for the night. He sprinted the length of the main pier, but no sign of her. He scoured the broken pier, seeing a bundle of familiar looking armour in the distance.  
 _SHIT.  
_ He sprinted over, narrowly avoiding the gaps in the pier, relief flooding over him as he saw Hawke was still, in fact, in her armour, soundly asleep.

"Hawke!" Varric panted, trying to catch his breath.  
Her head snapped around and she looked at him with wide eyes. "Varric?"  
"Oh, thank fuck I found you!"  
"I... eh... sorry..." She moaned, rubbing her head, "I didn't mean to be here for long. I just..." she sat up and shook her head, "Wha...? Where are the others?"  
"At the Hanged Man by now, probably. We got rid of the bandits. There was a lot less than I thought there would be, though. Rivaini wasn't very happy about that."  
"That was quick! How long were you gone? Under an hour, surely?"  
"It's been hours, Hawke. The sun is setting now."  
She looked out to the sea and the ever expanding shadows, her face looking puzzled. She sat hunched over and defeated, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.  
"Anyway... how are you feeling?"  
"I've been better... been worse though."  
Varric plonked himself beside her and set Bianca down by his side.  
"You look tired." Hawke murmured, examining his face.  
"Oh thanks. And this is coming from you?"

She smiled blankly, her eyes still itchy and red with the remains of tears.  
"Is there anything I can do to help?"  
"I um... could I... lean my head on your shoulder?"  
"Sure, go ahead."  
She shuffled over and dropped her head onto Varric shoulder, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, focusing on Varric's scent. Leather, grease, sweat and cologne. They were admittedly unappealing on their own but somehow when worn by Varric they were... comforting. Anything was better than the stench of the docks, especially now that she'd been here for hours. If anything that made her appreciate him all the more.

"Hawke."  
"Huh?"  
She turned around to, yet again, see Carver. Hawke sighed and dropped her daggers.  
"I don't want to fight. I'm so tired..."  
"Because you're a coward." Carver sighed, smoothing his hair down.  
Hawke stayed silent, her eyes locked on the dark wood under her shifting feet, trying to avoid any conflict.  
"Anyway, I'm here to apologise... for _you_ being such a shit sister."  
"What?"  
"You don't even care about Bethany. You hurt her feelings on a daily basis. You just can't leave her alone, can you?"  
"I don't mean to hurt her!"  
"Yeah and neither will I you."  
"Huh? Wha-"

Before she had time to react, Carver lunged forward and pushed her over, down into the rapids. She tried to swim to the surface, to breathe, but her legs were somehow bound together.  
"HELP!" She cried, thrashing her arms to no avail. "CARVER, PLEASE!?"  
She was drawn down, down into the deeps, her heart pounding, her body numb with cold and shock.  
 _I'm dying.  
I'm going to die.  
This is it._

The bottom of the sea was just visible under her, the light around her engulfed by the darkness. She couldn't tell if she was losing conciousness or if the sea was really that dark. A dark haired body bobbed in the distance. She used the very last of her energy to swim towards it. Hesitantly, she turned the body over and gasped.  
"F-Father?"  
"Swim away, dear. Swim to the surface. I can help you."  
"I can't... I'm so tired. I just want to give up. I don't want to fight any more."  
"Pathetic." He sneered, "You want to give up everything you've earned? Everything you've been given? You're a coward. You can never be the daughter I wanted."  
"I'm sorry." She cried, but he swam away, into the deep.

Suddenly, a seagull's cry rang through the sound of the sea.  
 _A seagull under the sea? I... I must be dreaming, surely?_  
Suddenly the sea changed colour from deep blue to deep red.

Hawke slowly opened her eyes, blinded by the evening light. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she sat up straight and looked around, observing her surroundings steadying her breathing, in and out with the gentle sloshing of the waves under her, taking in the stale, fishy, salty air.  
"You okay there, Hawke?"  
"Mmmh... yeah... fine..." She rubbed her eyes and shuffled a little, her bum feeling awfully numb. "How long was I out for?"

To Varric it felt like mere minutes, but the sun told a different story.  
"A while now."  
"Great. Well, shall we head to the Hanged Man?"  
"As long as you're up for it. Your choice, though."  
Hawke didn't even need to think about it.  
 _I'm not going to sit here and think about that nightmares any longer than I have to._  
"Let's go."  
Varric nodded.  
"I think after today you deserve to let your hair down."

They rose to their feet and made their way over to the Hanged Man, where they were greeted by a few familiar and sour faces.

"How's your stomach, Hawke?" Merrill asked as they approached the table, her hand reaching into her bag, "I made you a remedy in case you were still feeling ill."  
"I'm a lot better, thanks." Hawke mumbled, cringing at the excuse.  
 _Better than them knowing, I guess.  
_ "I take it you found her then?" Bethany asked.  
Varric nodded and sat in his usual seat beside Hawke.  
"Should you even be drinking right now?" Aveline asked, a suspicious look in her eye.  
"After the shit she's been through today, she deserves it. Literally. She's been through a lot of shit."  
"Again, that's too much information, Varric." She sighed, her face screwing up.  
"Let's get this game started, I'm tired of waiting!" Cried Isabela.  
"Shall we say loser has to drink?" Hawke cheered, calling over a barmaid.  
"Ooh, I better get a big jug of water then, shall I?" Laughed Merrill, clapping her hands.

"You cheated!" Anders cried, throwing his hand down.  
"Did I? What proof do you have?" Isabela snickered, taking a shot.  
"I thought it was only the loser that was supposed to drink!" Merrill cried.  
"At least _you're_ not the loser for once." Hawke sighed, downing her drink.  
"I'm not?" She asked, looking over the cards, "Hawke, _you_ lost! Varric, I'm getting better at this!"  
"Yes you are, Daisy!" Varric smiled, taking the deck from Isabela, "I'll take over shuffling duties now. I'm sure there's no complaints to be made about that."

Varric looked over to Isabela, expecting a complaint, but she was too busy looking over at the bar, trying to catch the eye of a patron.  
"Anyone up for shots of whiskey?" Hawke called to the group, ignoring the harsh look from her sister.  
"Now you're talking my language!" Isabela laughed.  
"Count me out, please." Aveline sighed, shaking her head.

"Isabela, you're too drunk to even cheat properly." Varric sighed, watching her clumsily slip a card into her boot, half way  
"Oooooh..." She cried melodically, "What can we do with a drunken sailor, what can we do-"  
"Isabela, shut it!" Edwina cried, slamming her hand on the bar, "Do you want to get chucked out?"  
"GO ISABELA!" Hawke cried, raising her fifth tankard, most of it spilling onto the table.

Varric began gathering up his cards and put them away, out of danger.  
"HEY HO AND UP SHE RISES!" Isabela howled, attempting to climb onto the table, purposefully elbowing Aveline in the face in the process.  
An eager chorus clumsily clapped and deafly sang along, taking great delight in Isabela's rare singing voice, even if she was barely able to stand straight.  
"That's it, out you go!" Coriff sighed, dragging her off the table and out the door, "You can get to your room when you calm down!"  
A chorus of boos erupted, fists banged on the tables, but Coriff went back behind the bar, defiant against the cries.

"It's getting awfully late, I should really go back home." Merrill sighed, finishing the last of her water.  
"Do you want me to walk you back?" Aveline asked, gathering her things.  
"I'll be fine! The back alleys are surprisingly safe, I don't see what the fuss is about."  
Aveline shot a look to Varric, who rolled his eyes and nodded slightly.  
"I'll take my leave too. "Aveline spoke, rising to her feet, "Thank you for the... interesting evening."  
"Bye everyone!" Merrill sang, waving rapidly.

"Everyone up for another game?" Varric asked, getting his cards back out.  
"Winner gets Isabela's coin?" Anders asked, eyeing the money in the middle of the table. "That could be put to good use in the clinic."  
Hawke picked up her hand and attempted to sort through them for matches. The pictures whirled, she couldn't focus her eyes on them.  
"Hawke, your turn."  
"I'll... sit this one out... I think." She sighed, throwing her cards in, "I'll just head outside a minute to sober up."

She stumbled to her feet and out the door. She knew she wouldn't sober up with a bit of stale outside air. She just needed to be sick somewhere it wouldn't get her kicked out. She'd almost perfected the art of a tactical spew to ensure that she could be in the drunkest possible state by the end of the night.

"It's so much easier to win without Riveni here." Varric chuckled to himself, collecting his spoils.  
"I'll have to call it a night there." Anders sighed, putting his cards on the table and rising to his feet.  
"Is that because you lost?" Fenris mocked.  
"No, because I would like to return home before the sun rises and the Templars start their morning patrols. I'd rather not be stuck in the circle. Who knows, maybe I'd be lucky and get murdered by them next time to save me the pain of circle life." He turned to the rest of the group, "See you all later."  
Fenris rolled his eyes watching Anders make his way to the door.  
"I guess I'll head off as well then." Bethany said, rising from her seat, trying to act cool, "I mean... because it's late!"  
"Will you be okay, Sunshine? I wouldn't mind walking you home."  
"I'll be fine! It's only a few minute's walk. Plus..." She looked towards Hawke who was drinking the last of her tankard, eyes closed, swaying slightly, "Someone has to look after sis... and I'd rather it wasn't me." She smiled, jogging to catch up with Anders and turned back to wave, "Bye!"  
"One last game, Broody?"  
"Tempting, but I'm quite tired after today's fight." Fenris sighed, finishing the last of his wine, "See you later, Varric."  
"Get home safe."

Varric looked over at Hawke, the last remaining player, who was face down on the table. Her hair was tangled all around her, loose from its usual ponytail, random gibberish muttered from her lips.  
"Hawke?"  
"Meee...? Issss meee?"  
"I really don't think you should make your own way to Gamlen's tonight." Varric sighed, looking at the mess that was Hawke, "And I don't exactly fancy the idea of having to help you home. I doubt you're in any state to walk."  
"Yeeeaamm... Mhmmmm."  
"You can stay at mine if you can make it up the stairs."  
Hawke sat up slowly and smiled blankly, slightly swaying from side to side. Varric guided her hand to his shoulder and helped her to her feet.  
"Easy there." Varric warned, keeping a stiff grip around her waist, "Maker's balls... I've never seen you so fucked."  
"I... maaaaybeeee... doooo..." Hawke murmured, eyelids drooping.  
"Don't you _dare_ fall asleep or you're getting an ass-full of Bianca."  
"Ooouuchhh..."  
"Exactly! Now just put one foot... in front of the other... good."

Varric sighed and somehow began to make his way up the stairs with Hawke. He was rather miffed that none of the bar staff were bothered about helping, but that was typical of them. Hawke definitely seemed to have an opinion about something and was eager to have her opinion heard, but her thoughts came out as a slurred mess.

"I jusss... reaaar... no masss..." Hawke bellowed, mouth agape.  
"Oh really?" He chuckled, unable to make out a single word.  
"Eeeerrrmmmm..." She moaned, slaver beginning to make its way out of her mouth, "seeeeeccc... varrrreeeekkkk... seeeeeccc."  
"Huh? You're going to be sick? Fuck. Just not here, Hawke. Wait until I get you a-"  
Hawke leaned to the other side and was subsequently sick down the stairs.

He sighed and put his palm to his face.  
"You're fine. You're okay, Hawke." He sighed, patting her on the back, "Let's just get you to bed."  
He dreaded the outcome if he _had_ decided in fact to send Hawke home.

Varric eventually hauled Hawke up the stairs and hoisted her onto his bed.  
"Nooooo... sleeeeeep..." She mumbled, although in the minute that it took for Varric to take off and fling his coat over a chair, she had passed out, face down.  
 _Note to self: never let Hawke get so pissed again._

Varric changed into his bed robes - admittedly more than he would usually wear to bed - and lay down beside his docile friend. She grumbled and rolled over onto her side, a soft snore erupting. Varric could see her face and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the dim light. Her torso had a soft rhythm, rising and falling with her inhales and exhales, a gentle wheeze escaping from her lips. A constant - yet comforting - reminder that she was there. He gazed upon the soft glimmer of her hair which for once, wasn't scraped back in a pony tail and was instead gracefully, if somewhat also messily, framing her face. Even her hands looked dainty and precious as they lay beside her face, although covered in scratches and her sharpened nails were still caked in blood from earlier fights.

 _How often is she able to let her hair down? Express herself?_ Varric thought to himself, feeling a pang of protectiveness. _When has she ever done something for her_ _ **own**_ _benefit?_  
He felt privileged to know her, to befriend her, to have any sort of an insight into what went on in her head. Well... whatever little she would confide in him, anyway.

He sighed deeply, but soon regretted it as he got a strong wiff of the combined stench of sick, alcohol and general Hanged Man smell. Quickly, he rolled over to stop himself gagging.

 _I better try to get to sleep. I've got plenty to do tomorrow. Where am I going again? Oh yeah, that Merchant's Guild meeting. Fuck. I'd much rather be spending the time with Hawke.  
No.  
Get her out of your head, Varric. Not everything is about her._

He couldn't get comfy, nor could he stop thinking about Hawke. He tossed and turned, desperate to fall asleep. Everything seemed to remind him of her nowadays, even the streets of Kirkwall, every one of which he had walked through with Hawke at some point.

"It has a certain charm to it." He could remember her saying as they went on their first job together, "Once you get over the initial stench, I mean."  
"I've lived here my whole life and I've never got over the stench, you just learn to ignore it."  
"It's not as bad as the mabari that our neighbour in Lothering used to have. A sweet dog, but you'd be recovering for weeks if she ever licked your face. She loved Bethany, you should have seen her face when she would come for her!"  
She chuckled to herself for a few minutes.  
"She used to chase her around the garden, she was afraid to go outside if it was there."  
She laughed even louder this time, doubling over. When she tried to calm down, she only laughed even louder.  
"And one time..." She wheezed, "Bethany was out getting some groceries in the market and the ma... the mabari... she ran up to her and she-"  
"I would very much appreciate you never telling that story." Bethany interrupted, her face turning pink. "It was embarrassing enough at the time."

Varric found himself smiling at the memory.  
 _What a simpler time that was.._ He thought to himself, before shaking his head. _No need to think of it right now, though. There's only one lady you need in your life, Varric. Just... keep your mind on Bianca._

He could see the crossbow in his mind's eye, but he couldn't help but remember Hawke looking at her, reaching a hand out to touch her.  
"So... how does it work?" Hawke had asked.  
"How does _she_ work, you mean?" He said, moving out of her reach.  
"Okay, okay... How does _she_ work then?"  
"Don't ask me. Have you ever heard of the shop called the Black Emporium?"  
"I don't think so..."  
"Found her in a bag labelled 'swag' in there, bought her for a ham sandwich and a pair of yellow ruffled pants."  
"You're pulling my leg!"  
"I did warn you I'm a compulsive liar."  
"How did you _really_ get her then?"  
"It's a story that I'll never tell."  
"Not much of a storyteller then."  
He let out a loud, echoing laugh, "You've got me there."

 _I'm thinking about her again. Shit. Only Hawke of all people could make me think about her when the damned crossbow is named after another woman entirely._

He couldn't deny it any more. His heart raced just a little every time he looked at her, yet... she always looked so vulnerable when she thought no-one was looking. It wouldn't feel right to let her know how he felt. Not when she was like this.

"Maker's balls." He grumbled softly to himself, "Of all people... it had to be her, didn't it?"


End file.
